


Murphy's Physics

by Lothithil



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothithil/pseuds/Lothithil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SG1 and a Tok'ra operative are stranded on a planet without a star gate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murphy's first Law: "If anything that can go wrong, it will."

O'Neill stood behind the central control pillar, staring forward at the swirl of pseudo-clouds and specter that flashed past the scoutship as it hurled itself though hyperspace. Though it did not show on his face, a close observer could have noticed by his eyes that the Colonel's thoughts were flying faster than the ship was hurling toward its destination

His thoughts were not on the mission ahead, nor on the shapeless colours that danced before him. He was not paying attention to the conversation between Carter and Daniel, standing in the cargo bay bickering playfully about the significance of recently documented cases of Gou'old technology that have been retro-engineered from Tau'ri designs, while they packed their gear. He wasn't watching the Tok'ra So'len as he guided the ship through the æther; Teal'c was riding second seat, discretely watching his every move.

Jack had issues with the Tok'ra, but he had to hand it to them when it came to stealing spaceships. When he and his team had embarked, he had teased the pilot that the Tok'ra should open an intergalactic strip-shop, and get out of the Goa'uld-fighting business altogether. That statement had earned half-hearted laughter from his team and a puzzled stare from So'len. Jack had let it drop, then.

That was another problem the Tok'ra had; no sense of humour.

He stared, not at the tangle of space through which they flew toward their objective, but rather at the space through which this was visible. A window, without glass or mineral, separated them from the void; a thin, invisible force kept death and oblivion at bay, shielding their fragile craft and defying the abyss.

'Why', he asked himself, 'when the engines or systems failed or were damaged-- as was so wont to happen on these zany, fun-filled interstellar trips-- did *that* particular force-field never fail?'

Jack whispered the thought to himself, as if mentioning this paradox might bring attention to the oversight. Jack O'Neill was an AF officer and a modern man, but he was also Irish, and that imbued him with more than a little instinctive superstitious paranoia.

After all, Murphy was Irish, too.

~~~

The Goa'uld al'Kash was waiting for them. It couldn't have been more than a few moments after they exited hyperspace before they were enveloped in bursts of angry fire. The shields had begun to scream in protest, and the hull shuddered as if they had been kicked. Jack grabbed for the pillar and missed, sprawling on the floor as the vessel rocked.

"We really need to put a chair back here!" he muttered into the floor before he picked himself up. Another blow to the ship sent him down again. "Or maybe just softer floors." He rolled over and crawled to the pillar, pulling himself up and hanging on. "What's going on?"

"We have been fired upon, O'Neill," came Teal'c's response. His large hands moved gracefully over the controls of the weapons console. "A Goa'uld attack vessel was waiting for us. I suspect that the covert nature of our mission has been compromised."

So'len the Tok'ra was fighting with the controls, trying to evade the still-incoming fire spitting at them from the al'Kesh. "Impossible!" Jack could hear a note of panic in the reedy voice of the symbiote. "Our mission is a heavily guarded secret! Only the Council knew of our objective and destination. This has to be a coincidence."

"Well," Jack injected as the ship shuddered again, "we are about to 'coincidentally' get our asses kicked if you don't get us out of here! Doesn't this ship have a cloaking device?"

"The cloaking mechanism has been damaged. We cannot cloak at this time, and our shields are failing. All we can do is try to outrun them."

"No, that isn't all we can do. Teal'c, blast that bastard out of the sky!"

"I am endeavoring to do so, O'Neill." Teal'c stroked the panel and was rewarded with a direct hit on the aggressive vessel. The craft veered toward them, spouting brilliant yellow and red explosions along with chunks of metal as it spiraled out of control.

Straight toward them.

"Brace for imp--" was all the warning So'len managed before the vessels collided. Their shields flared, narrowly managing to deflect the majority of the damage, but as the al'Kesh burst into its final death, the shrapnel tore through the scoutship in several places.

Jack picked himself up again, wiping blood from his forehead. All the lights had flicked out aboard ship except for the blinking warning lights, of which there were many. Too many.

So'len pulled himself back into the pilot's chair. "Hull breech! I'm sealing off the rear compartments!" His fingers flew over the controls to close the heavy doors.

"Wait! We've got people back there!" Jack threw himself back toward the cargo bay, assisting Carter and Daniel as they scrambled out of the room. "Now!" the doors sealed, and Jack became aware of an urgent whine somewhere near the roof of the command room. "Sounds like we've got a problem in here, too!"

"A minor breech," So'len intoned, his attention focused on the controls. His fingers were white on the stick, straining to keep the vessel in control. "We have no shields and no power, and our course is taking us toward the planet. Shortly we will be pulled down by the gravitational field. This ship cannot survive an uncontrolled reentry."

"Do we have time to fix it?" Daniel asked, clutching the back of his head. From their roughed-up appearance, they must have faired like the Colonel during the attack.

"There's no time! We need to get the shields and thrusters back online, or we will burn up in the atmosphere."

Sam leaned over Teal'c's shoulder, clinging to the large man's back as she read the controls. "Sir, if we can divert power from the weapons and unnecessary systems, we can--" she broke off as the ship shuddered violently again, tossing everyone down not sitting down across the compartment. Jack, Daniel and Sam landed together in a tangle of limbs.

"You kids okay?-- oof!"

"Urg..."

"Sorry, Sir."

"I've bypassed the power from weapons. We've got shields, but it's not enough to give us control." So'len fought with the console. "Colonel, I recommend that you and your team take the escape pods. If I bypass the life-support, I can gain the thruster and maybe save the ship."

"Daniel! Carter! Into the pods! Teal'c, you too."

"What about you, Jack?" Daniel asked as he wedged himself in the coffin-like cubicle."

"I'll help Sullen bring in the ship. I don't want to live on this rock if it hasn't got a Stargate."

"But, Sir--"

"Colonel O'Neill, you must use the last escape pod! I can sustain my host for a brief time on low life-support, but you will not survive. Use your transmitters to locate the beacon once you land. I will endeavor to preserve the ship."

"Alright!" Jack slapped the controls next to Sam's escape pod, sealing the door on her protests and fearful expression. He hit the release button on her pod, then Daniel's and Teal'c's as well. The fourth and last pod stood waiting for him, but as he moved toward it, the ship bucketed sharply toward the bow.

The last thing he saw was the clear view of the planet, rapidly growing in size, as he struck the forcefield that kept the bad space out and the good space in.

It might have been invisible, but it was solid enough to knock him out.


	2. "Murphy's Second Law: 'If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong."

Jack was vaguely aware that he was being lifted. He felt the confines of an escape pod around him, recognized the pressurized feeling as the door slid firmly closed. His face ached; he was sure he'd at least broken his nose or cheekbones, but the pod was so close that he could not lift his hands to feel the damage. He heard his radio crackling at his collar, felt the cold trickle of blood down his neck, soaking into his shirt.

"Launch! Colonel O'Neill, you must launch your escape pod!" So'len's voice on his radio.

The controls for the escape pod were beneath the fingers of his right hand. He could feel the textured panels. Choosing the center one, he pressed it firmly. There was a vacuous hiss, and the whole pod jolted slightly.

Jack frowned. He had not been launched. He stabbed down on the button again. This time nothing happened, but Jack became aware of a high pitched whine, and the sounds of impact in the distance. He felt as if he were spinning in one of the Air Force's flight simulators; the inertial-dampeners in the escape capsule cushioned him from the crash as the scoutship made an ungraceful, distressed landing.

He stabbed the button again, then pressed all of them. The door did not open. He twisted and managed to get his arms up enough to try to force the doors apart. He could not budge them, but he strained and clawed at them until stars danced behind his aching eyes. Life support inside the pod was working-- one of the few things that had gone RIGHT today-- but the feeling of suffocation persisted. Claustrophopia had nothing to do with it. This is what anyone felt when they are trapped, and of not knowing where their team was or if they had even survived their own descent.

He bent his arm further, feeling as if he was folding the bones in his forearm to reach the toggle on his radio. "Teal'c! Carter! Daniel! Report!" No response. "So'len? Get me out of this box! Hey, So'len!"

There was a thud outside of the pod. Jack dug his already broken nails into the fine crack where the doors joined. There came a scrape of metal, and then a thin gleaming line of light appeared. Jack shifted his hands and pushed with all his desperate strength on one side of the doors. They slid back slowly, and So'len appeared, levering the doors open with a bent metal rod.

The Tok'ra helped Jack out of the pod, then collapsed onto the deck. He was bleeding freely from wounds on his head and face, and one of his pantlegs was soaked with blood. Jack approached him hesitantly, unsure if the host was wounded enough to make his symbiote abandon him. He had no desire to test the moral judgment of another Tok'ra; he'd had enough of *that* kind of fun. "Hey! Sullen, old buddy? You still alive?" Gingerly, he touched the man's throat with two fingers, feeling the strong pulse beating there.

The Tok'ra opened his eyes. Jack was startled to notice that they were brown, like his own. "O'Neill. You have survived." The eyes rolled closed again.

"Hey now! Don't nod off on me yet! I haven't thanked you for the nice, soft landing." But So'len was unconscious. Jack didn't feel much better than the Tok'ra looked, but he struggled against his own dizziness to wrestle open one of his team's packs to find a first-aid kit. He crawled over and did what he could to help So'len.

 

Jack was flat on his back when his awareness returned to him. 'Must have passed out sometime after the feature film', he thought ruefully. There was a tiny voice entreating him out of the smoky darkness, buzzing in his ear like an insect. He sat up with a groan, feeling his forehead to see if there really was a ten inch nail stuck through it.

"O'Neill, please respond." The radio chattered at him, dragging at his collar.

"Teal'c?" Jack's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and said, "Report, Teal'c. What's your situation?"

"I have exited the escape vessel without injury. I have scouted the area, but have not yet located Major Carter or Daniel Jackson. I have determined the direction the scoutship's homing beacon. Do you wish me to join your position?"

"Negative. We need to find Carter and Daniel. I am in the scoutship now. So'len is injured, I'm not sure how badly." Jack saw no reason to mention his own problems. "I'll contact you after I complete a sweep of the area. Maybe they are near the landing site. Hopefully, old Sullen didn't run them over when he rubbed down the ship."

"Understood. I shall broaden my search and report again. Teal'c out."

Jack took a moment to feel his face for loose bones. Other than a whumping headache and a few scratches, he seemed mostly uninjured. He sat up slowly, then stood up, surveying the rest of his ravaged territory and for once finding nothing seriously wrong.

'Well,' he thought with an inner grin, 'there is a first time for everything.'

So'len was lying where Jack had left him, in a state of deep sleep. From what Jack could tell, the symbiote seemed to be healing him. There wasn't much more that Jack could do, so he left a canteen of water near the Tok'ra's hand and geared up for a sweep of the area. He found his pack in the ring transport room, where Carter and Daniel had placed it beside their own. He stuffed in an extra first-aid kit, then grabbed up his P90.

Stepping outside, Jack did a double-take of the ship. So'len had really done some trick piloting to bring it down in one piece. There was a swath of trees lying like broken matchsticks in a broad avenue, still smoldering, where the ship had bellied down until it banked onto the ground. A fair mound of dirt was ploughed and piled up over the nose of the vehicle, nearly obscuring it. They seemed to be in a valley between steep, rocky hills. In the great distance, blue smudges of mountains lay like low clouds on the horizon. The sky was pale blue and hazy. An orange sun was quartering in the sky, but Jack had no way of knowing yet if it was going up or down, or just hanging out. This was an alien planet, after all.

Jack swept the area, then circled again in a wider path, checking at every compass point for a response from Carter or Daniel. Teal'c was headed toward the scoutship, searching in a zig-zag pattern as he moved toward the position. The sun rose to zenith, took on a pinkish hue as the clouds thickened, then began to descend.

"Colonel O'Neill," the radio crackled to life with the strangely timbred voice of So'len.

"I'm returning to the ship. Hang on." Jack double-timed it back to the crash site, feeling light-headed as he arrived. Maybe the air here was thinner than Earth, he mused as he breathed deeply, striding the last few paces to the ship. The doors slip open readily, revealing So'len sitting against the wall, his wounded leg stretched out before him. "Feeling better?" Jack asked, squatting down next to him.

So'len grimaced as he shifted his battered limb. "I will live, Colonel. It will take some time to heal, then I will set to work on the ship. I hope that I will be able to repair the systems, but I fear that much damage was sustained to the hull."

"Yeah, nice landing! We won't be needing to cut any firewood for, oh... I don't know... a year. But any landing you can walk away from is a good one... oh, no offense!" Jack added with a smirk. "Any landing that you can limp away from..."

"I am glad to see that you sustained only minor injuries, O'Neill. I would have been most distressed if you had failed to live long enough to criticize my flying." One side of the Tok'ra's mouth twitched up in a hint of a smile.

"Hey, I'm not being critical! I'm grateful to be alive. I wouldn't be, if you hadn't got me into that escape pod." Jack sighed. "Look, you did good. Now take care of yourself and get this ship fixed. I'm going to try to find Carter so she can help you, and Daniel so he can drive me nuts while we wait."

So'len answered with slight nod, then closed his eyes.

'If we were stranded on this rock long enough,' Jack thought with a touch of hopeful arrogance, 'I just might live to hear a Tok'ra laugh.'


	3. Murphy's Third Law: "If everything seems to be going well, you've obviously overlooked something."

"Teal'c, report."

"I have communicated with Major Carter. The escape pod bore her far from your position, beyond the range of her transmitter. She reports that she is uninjured, but is hindered from regrouping with your position by a geological feature; a deep crevice. It is vast and the area is treacherous. She says that she must navigate around this obstacle in order to join you. I have not yet heard from Daniel Jackson." Teal'c spoke with the same ever-calm attitude. Whether he was commenting on the weather or suggesting an assault upon a Goa'uld prison-camp, his deep resonate voice seemed to never waver. Still, O'Neill could tell that his Jaffa friend was concerned for their team's missing persons.

"We'll find him, T. I want you to try to get to Carter. If Sullen can get the sensors working, I can pinpoint the location of Daniel's transmitter."

"What are the chances that So'len will be able to repair the craft for flight?"

"They'll be a lot better if he gets some help. Bring in Sam. Keep your eyes peeled for some sign from Daniel, too. I'm going to climb up a big rock and see if this valley is blocking his signal." Jack squinted up at the solemn, stony face of the cliff. How hard could it be?

Jack could almost hear Teal'c's eyebrow scaling upward. "Should you undertake such a risk alone, O'Neill? Should something untoward happen, you would be without backup."

"I've climbed worse." Disapproving silence. Jack sighed, toggling the radio again. "Don't worry, T. It's a piece of cake!"

"Exercise extreme caution, O'Neill. Teal'c out."

"Yes, Mother." Jack stuck his head through the coil of rope, settling it over his shoulder and tying it neatly at his hip, then checking to make sure the rock-hammer and spikes that were attached to his belt were also secure. He had been sitting at the base of the cliff he had told Teal'c he was preparing to climb, waiting for a report before he proceeded and hoping that it would be unnecessary.

Jack knew full well the dangers of rock-climbing alone. If it had been one of his team or anyone he knew, he would have chewed them out up one side and down the other for attempting such a thing. He wouldn't be trying it himself if he hadn't been able to locate safety ropes and tools. He took the time to scout a likely assent with his binoculars, but this could not reveal the minutiae dangers that awaited a lonely climber. Jack was determined to be very careful. The last thing he needed was a broken anything.

The air was thin, even more than living in Colorado and scrubbing the atmosphere in an F-16 could make him accustomed. He breathed deeply and slowly, climbing with deliberate care. The ground was covered with debris and loose stones, but there seemed to be good solid rock beneath. Showers of small stones rained down noisily as he planted his feet and reached for each handhold. He wouldn't be sneaking up on anyone, but he was confident that he could reach the summit without complications.

And so he did; and he stood upon the very pinnacle of the ridge, looking down at an impressively sleep slope upon the other side. His valley was soft and friendly in comparison to this rugged landscape. It looked as though the mountain had been peeled away by a giant monstrous hand, gouging deep grooves down the fleshy stone. Beyond were a series of smaller hills, disappearing onto the haze of distance. O'Neill lifted his binoculars and scanned the area within range.

Finding nothing, he dropped the binocs against his chest on their thong and rooted around in his backpack for his collapsible telescope. This time, the sweep of his sharp eye revealed a thin line of rising smoke in the distance. By the colour of the vapors, Jack could tell that it was no natural fire that burned. Possibly the wreckage that Goa'uld al'Kesh that they had shot down. He hoped that the snakehead or jaffa piloting the vessel had not managed to get to his escape pod, but a lifetime of pragmatic pessimism left the idea gnawing at him.

He toggled his radio. "Teal'c, report." There was silence for a moment, then he heard a crackle in response. Something was happening to Teal'c so that he could not freely answer his radio. Jack swore under his breath, words steaming in the thin, cold air. Now what?

"Colonel, this is Carter. I'm picking up your signal now, Sir."

Sam! The next plume of breath flagged O'Neill's relief. "Report, Major."

"I am trying to get around this big ravine, Sir. It has completely cut off my path toward the ship. Teal'c is exploring the other side, trying to find any sign of Daniel. It looks like a couple of days walk at least. This ravine is at least three klicks wide, and it looks like it goes straight down. There are some steam vents that might indicate seismic activity. I have crossed a couple of old lava-flows. There seems to be no safe way across except around. How is So'len doing on the repairs?"

"He needs your help, Major. Get yourself around that crevice in one piece, meet up with Teal'c. I spotted some smoke that looks like it might be the other wreck. Keep your eyes open for semi-toasted snakeheads."

"Affirmative, Sir. Carter out."

Jack's radio crackled before he could toggle his own sign-off. "O'Neill, this is Teal'c. Please respond."

"Go ahead, T. You okay?"

"I am well. I was climbing down the ravine in an area that looked as if it had been recently disturbed. I discovered a landslide and evidence of natural erosion. I am sorry to report no sign of Daniel Jackson or of a traversable path across the ravine. The sides are sheer and the bottom is filled with jagged rocks and water. I see no recourse but to continue to trek around the edge in the hopes of encountering Major Carter."

"Do it, T. So'len, are you monitoring?"

The Tok'ra's voice responded in a clear broadcast. "I am, Colonel."

"How's it coming? Have we got sensor's yet?"

"Not yet, Colonel. There is much damage. Most of the systems are functioning, but there is a problem with the power supply. I need to reconfigure the crystals, and that will take time. I believe that it can be done, but I can do nothing quickly without assistance."

"Right. I'm returning to the ship as soon as I rig this relay. Teal'c, Carter, I'm gonna slap together something to bounce our signals over this molehill. Find good places to hole-up for the night; we have no idea how cold it's going to get here. Report again around sundown. O'Neill out."

The radio clicked twice as Carter and Teal'c acknowledged. Jack busied himself assembling the portable relay device. He was worried about Daniel, and the fact that he had been unable to thoroughly scout the area. The trek downhill was slower than the climb; he fought against his nerves to prevent a too-rapid descent. The little hairs on the back of his neck were tingling, and he wanted to get back to the ship as quickly as possible.


	4. Murphy's Fourth Law: "Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse."

The quake struck just after Jack reached the ground. He went down in a tangle of gear and rope, covering his head as buckets of fist-or-bigger-sized rocks came sliding down the hill. The ground grated its teeth for nearly forty long seconds, leaving Jack bruised and breathless and feeling lucky that he had not been climbing when the quake began.

The radio was dead when he tried to reach Teal'c and Carter. Cursing, Jack gathered his scattered gear and hurried back to the ship. 'Worrying about it wouldn't make Teal'c or Sam any safer,' he told himself firmly. He could only hope that they had survived the quake just as he had. But the lengthy walk back to the ship provided him with ample time to consider survival needs and measure objectives, and still contemplate all the things that could have gone wrong for Carter and Teal'c. Frustration gnawed at him like hunger.

Jack was worried about Daniel, too. He would have given a lot if he could know that the little space-monkey was with the rest of his team. He knew that the man could take care of himself, but he could also get himself into a lot of trouble almost effortlessly. Especially if he found someone to talk to. Talk with. Someone with which to talk. 'Never end a sentence with a preposition, even when talking to yourself, Jack,' he thought whimsically.

Whimsy evaporated as he returned to the site of the ship. Lying on the ground just outside of the vessel, was Daniel. His head was wrapped in a bandage, apparently torn from his own jacket. He wasn't moving.

Jack suppressed the urge to run toward him, ignoring the painful throb in his chest at the sight of the rusty stains on Daniel's bandages. He lifted his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the entire area. He saw nothing. He stashed his climbing gear and circled the area until he came to the opposite side from which he had returned. Dropping to his belly, he crawled through the crushed trees until he reached the ship, then crouch-walked around to where Daniel lay.

He was breathing and his pulse was steady at his throat. Jack laid a gently hand on his shoulder. "Daniel?"

Eyelids flickered but stayed closed. The young archaeologist's brow furrowed. "Jack?"

"Yeah. How'd you get here?" Jack kept his hand on Daniel's shoulder, but he raised his head and scanned the area, his P90 tracking along.

"Where's here?" Daniel lifted his head a little, then let it drop again. "Ow."

"Don't move."

"Right." Daniel opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut. "Urgh."

Jack crept to the portal of the ship, leaning back into the curve of the hull as he triggered the opening mechanism. The doors slid open, but he remained motionless, waiting.

So'len's voice came drifted out, "Identify yourself."

"O'Neill. You all right in there?" So'len poked his head out of the doorway, his zat'nik'tel disarming with a click. Jack's P90 never wavered. "What happened?"

So'len tried to ignore the weapon. He had been grown somewhat used to the Colonel's distrust during their long voyage. Selmak had attempted to explain Jack before the Tok'ra had approached the Tau'ri with this mission. 'Colonel O'Neill may be suspicious of everyone and everything, but his survival rate is very good, and you are going to need that edge. Trust Jack, even if he doesn't trust you.' Selmak's word was enough for So'len; but still, that little black eye on the P90 looked very large and dangerous, and it seemed to be trained on his heart.

So'len cleared his throat and said, "There was a tremor, perhaps a seismic disturbance. I believe it generated an energy field that disrupted the working of the ship's systems. I was outside the ship when it struck, and sought shelter within. I have tried to reach you on your communicator, but it has ceased to function. Nor would the doors operate when I tried to exit the ship after the tremor."

Jack turned and scanned the area again, eyes restless. "What about Daniel? Did you see how he got here?"

"Doctor Jackson is here?" So'len spotted him then, lying behind O'Neill. Jack did not doubt the surprise on his face. The Tok'ra dropped to a knee next to Daniel, reaching out a disbelieving hand to touch his arm gently. "Colonel, he was not here before the tremor. I would have seen him."

"I'd like to know how he got here, then. "Poof!" just isn't a good enough explanation."

"We should take him inside. I have a healing device that might help him."

"There's a stretcher in the ring-transport room. Get it." Jack let his P90 hang on its clip, taking Daniel under the shoulders, supporting his head. So'len hurried back with the body-board, and took Daniel's feet. Together, they lifted him smoothly onto it. Daniel's grimace of pain faded as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Jack noticed something lying on the ground where he had lain; Daniel's radio. He stepped carefully around the area, vowing silently to come back and investigate more fully. After they saw to Daniel.

"His head wounds are serious," So'len dug through his belt-pouch, coming out with a strange round device that Jack had seen before. He slipped the thing over his left hand, then braced it with the other. "I am not the most skillful at the use of this device, but I think I can help him. Please be ready to restrain him should he wake."

Jack set his hands on each of Daniel's shoulders, watching So'len's face as he concentrated. The device glowed in his hand, and Jack suppressed a shudder as he recalled being on the receiving end of a Goa'uld hand device. He blinked, shaking his head a little. This was different. This device did not kill or cause pain. He hoped.

A pinkish-golden glow lit Daniel's body, and he sighed deeply. So'len's eyes were closed as he concentrated, his entire body tense.

Finally, Daniel opened his eyes. "Whoa."

The light within the device faded, and So'len opened his eyes and offered Daniel a smile. "Doctor Jackson. Are you well?"

"I'm better." Daniel coughed and sat up, cautiously. "Much better, in fact. Thank you." He looked up at Jack, who nodded at him casually. Jack couldn't hide the sparkle in his eyes at seeing his friend whole, and Daniel knew Jack well enough to not mention it. He merely returned the nod, then proceeded to feel around his jacket pockets. "Have you seen my glasses?"

"I'll look outside. Stay put." Jack peered out of the door, then walked to the place where Daniel had lain. The radio was still there.

Laying right on top of the radio, where they could not have avoided being crushed, were Daniel's spectacles. They gleamed in the odd sunlight as if delivering a taunting wink at the puzzled Colonel.


	5. Murphy's Fifth Law: "It is impossible to make things foolproof because fools are so ingenious."

Daniel's glasses were uncrushed and folded delicately on top of his radio, sitting in the center of a Daniel-shaped imprint on the ash-dusted ground. There were no trails leading up to or away from the site, other than Jack's own and those of So'len.

O'Neill knelt, staring at the objects. Those glasses simply had not been there a moment ago, just as Daniel had not been there before the quake, according to So'len. So unless the Tok'ra was lying AND a magician, there was someone else lurking around. Someone who could move without a sound and left no footprints.

Jack didn't like the idea of someone sneakier than himself creeping around, even if that person seemed to be helping them. He carefully searched the area, finding no signs of anyone other than So'len and himself. Daniel seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Jack glanced around, then cast his eyes upward. "Thor? Are you doing this, little buddy?" The Asgard were the only civilization that he was familiar with that used beaming technology that might explain how Daniel could have been brought to them, but he doubted that Thor or any others of his benevolent race would have left the young scientist in such a state. They would have used their technology to heal him, plus rounding up Teal'c and Carter as well. They'd all be home and happy right now if the Asgard were involved.

Jack briskly rubbed a hand through his short hair, trying to piece together the puzzle. He didn't know what was going on, but he did know what he needed. He needed Carter's brains, Daniel's imagination, and Teal's quiet confidence. Daniel he had now, and his heart rejoiced quietly when he saw his friend peering myopically out of the ship's portal.

"Did you find my glasses? I could have sworn I put them in my vest pocket while I was in the descent pod."

Jack leaned over and picked up the spectacles by the nose-piece. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"I don't even remember landing. There's quite a jolt when those things hit, as you probably well remember from our little vacation to Natu..."

"I try not to think about that."

"... This time I must have hit pretty hard. My head was already aching from the wallop I got when the ship was attacked. All I remember is leaving the ship in my pod, wishing that there were lights of some kind inside there, then waking up just now with you and So'len. How did I get here-- WOW!" Daniel placed his glasses on his nose and finally got a good look at the landing site. "Some touch-down!"

"Yeah, So'len really pulled it off. He could have smeared both of us all over the floor of this valley."

"Both of you? I thought--," Daniel's eyes darted toward the ship, then swiftly back to Jack, a clear sign to any who knew him that Daniel was questioning the evidence of his eyes and ears.

Jack tilted his head forward a little and raised his eyebrows, daring Daniel to question his word.

Jack O'Neill is a fisherman, and Daniel took the bait, as usual. "I thought that So'len said that you couldn't survive outside of the escape pod."

"Oh, I was in a pod. The damn thing never got launched." Jack's tone was one of injured dignity, as if the failure had been a personal insult. "It was like riding out the spin-cycle in a washing machine."

"God, Jack! You're lucky not to have been killed!"

Jack shrugged, looking around the crash site and then up at the empty skies of a remote, unnamed planet. "There's still time for that."

Daniel began to say something, but the crackle of the radio in the dirt interrupted them. "Sierra Gulf One-Niner, this is Sierra Gulf One-Seven. Come in, Sir."

"Sam!" Daniel exclaimed. He reached for his unit, but Jack slapped his hand away.

Jack toggled his own radio as Daniel glared at him and rubbed his hand. "Sierra Gulf One-Niner. Report, Major; are you all right?"

"Yes, Sir. I've been trying to reach you since the earthquake."

"It wasn't an earthquake, Carter. This isn't Earth." Jack grinned at Daniel, relieved to hear the voice of his 2IC. "It was a murphyquake."

"A murphyquake, Sir?"

"Yes. I have decided to name this place Planet Murphy, in honour of the Air Force Captain who set the fundamental laws for the inevitability of chaos and destruction. Because just about everything that could have gone wrong on this ill-conceived mission has gone wrong."

"Not too wrong, Sir." Daniel raised his eyebrows at Jack, hearing the uncommon note of optimism in Sam's voice. "I've come near the end of this ravine, Sir. I can see Teal'c on the other side. I should be joining his position shortly."

"That's good news, Major."

"There's more, Sir. Teal'c thinks that we've found Daniel's escape pod. It's down in the ravine. I don't think that there's anyway he could climb out. All we need is a rope and..."

"Negative, Major. Daniel isn't down there."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but how can you know that?"

"Because he is here with me. He's fine, by the way." Daniel motioned for Jack to give him his radio. Jack held up one hand to stall him.

"That's a relief, Sir! But how did he get out of the ravine? The sides are sheer, and we've found no trail or tracks..."

"We'll discuss it when you and Teal'c get your butts to the ship. How are you on supplies and shelter?"

"We have nothing but what we were carrying aboard-ship. All my gear is in my pack back in the tel'tac**. I have no food and nothing with which to carry water. When I talked to Teal'c last, he said he found some likely caves that might serve as shelter for the night. As long as it doesn't get too cold, we should be all right."

"I'm going to start out in your direction with supplies and try to meet with you. Are you getting an RDF signal?"

"Yes, Sir, but it's probably from Teal'c's radio. When we rendezvous, we can triangulate on your signal and be able to give you a more accurate ETA."

"Affirmative. Report again when you and Teal'c meet up. And Carter," Jack paused significantly before saying, "Keep your eyes open. For anything."

"Yes, Sir."

Daniel was making impatient gestures, his lips pursed in a full pout. "Jackson wants to talk to you."

Daniel eagerly took the radio from Jack. "Hey, Sam? Did the earth move for you, too?"

Her voice seemed to smile. "You mean 'did the murphy move for you', don't you? The Colonel says this isn't Earth." Daniel laughed, and Jack grinned smugly. "It's good to hear that you're okay, Daniel. We'll see you soon."

"That is, if nothing murphy-shattering occurs between now and then."

Jack grimaced at Daniel. "Don't say that! You're just tempting Fate, you know."


	6. Murphy's Sixth Law: "Anyone who isn't paranoid simply isn't paying attention."

Within the hour, Jack O'Neill was trekking determinedly under the bulk of two fieldpacks overstuffed with supplies. The gravity of this place-- Planet Murphy, Jack reminded himself firmly-- was indeed slightly less than Earth-normal, so the weight didn't bother him too much. Indeed, the most difficult part of the mission had been getting away from the ship without Daniel. He had wanted to come along, but Jack ordered him to stay and help So'len as much as he could. In the end, Jack pressed a P90 into Daniel's hands and told him frankly that he feared that a Goa'uld or Jaffa might have survived the destruction of their own ship.

"This ship may be the only way off this rock. The same thing might occur to *them*. Guard it until we get back. Please." Courtesy as his final weapon, Jack persuaded Daniel to remain in the last.

The RDF signal from Teal'c and Carter's radios was coming to him clearly. The sun was shrinking down toward the sharp intermittent mountains, turning again from pinkish to a golden-orange colour. There was a dip in the ridge that bordered the valley. He made it his goal to reach that point or further before night fell and he was forced to go to ground.

The temperature dropped with the sun, which after a burst of colour seemed to dive behind the horizon in great haste to escape from the absolute darkness. There were no moons and no stars visible. Even with the high-powered hand torch he had brought along, O'Neill could barely see to make a path. He was forced to stop at the crest of the ridge and hunker down against a large boulder to wait for daylight. He wrapped himself in a blanket and made a meal out of an energy bar.

Teal'c and Sam were safe. They had reported well before nightfall that they had found a cave and built a small fire. Jack wished, not for the last time during that long, chilly watch, that he was with them in that cozy cave, toasting MRE's over a campfire, and listening to Carter theorize about whatever entered her mind while Teal'c practiced his Kel'no'reem. And since wishes were free, Daniel could be there, too, searching the walls for primitive drawings or combing through the dirt for ancient alien can-openers. It painted a perfect picture in his mind, a fair substitute for sleep.

Several hours into the night, just as he was sure that his knees were locking up permanently from the cold, a pale yellow moon peered over the horizon, shedding a grudging luminescence over the landscape. There was not enough light to make out a path, but O'Neill was given a glimpse of a alien world in peaceful slumber.

There came a sound to Jack's ears that didn't fit the scenery. It was like the sound of a hummingbird's wings, or perhaps the subdued growl of a machine. It was so faint that it would have been impossible to hear but for the absolute silence of the night. The face of the gibbous moon rippled like a disturbed reflection in a pond.

Without taking his eyes off of the disturbance, Jack sought with knowing fingers and brought out his binoculars. These had been a gift his team had chipped in on and presented to him. They were powerful, light, and most importantly now, had infrared sensors that could be turned on or off. He had never seen anything like them on the market (such things were available, but they were bulky and very, very expensive) so Jack was fairly sure that Carter had probably built them herself. He lifted them to his eyes, thumbing on the night-vision array.

The scenery changed very little; instead of the washed-out yellow light from the moon, the mountainside became greenish, with a bright green sun shining down. The strange rippling disturbance disappeared. He swept the sky again, then turned his attention to the ground.

Everything around him was cold, though when he zoomed up on the terrain over which he intended to walk on the marrow, he saw pale white pockets of heat here and there. Hot springs or thermal vents, perhaps. He worried a bit about the quake yesterday, wondering if they were in for more such events. One good after-shock might cause him some trouble in this rocky and dangerous place. But there was nothing to do about it if it did happen, except to hold on like hell and ride it out.

There! A hint of movement in the corner of his eye. He twirled the focus on his binocs. There was a patch of brightness against a distant hill; a hot-spot on a distant peak, perhaps. As he watched, it moved slowly, down and then back up, hovering. The readout on his binocs gave a distance far too short to be the mountain in the distance. It was between him and that point, hanging in the air.

And then it moved, arching smoothly through the still night like a bird gliding on outstretched wings. Faintly, Jack heard the noise again, a soft thrumming against his ears.

On impulse, Jack picked up a rock and threw it as far away from himself as he could. He heard it crash and rattle down the slope, dislodging other stones that joined in the canopy. The patch in his sights turned toward the sound, and the noise became a little louder as it approached. All he could see was a blurb of light in his sights, taking on a reddish hue as it came closer. He could see now that a distorted yellow-green shape was on top of it. This was no thermal vent or night-hunting bird.

Suddenly, the thing changed directions and sped away, down the slope and away from Jack's hiding place. The noise faded before the vision disappeared beyond the range of his binoculars.

~~~

"Sounds like the Nox technology, Sir. They could make the fenri disappear."

"Yeah, but it didn't really sound like a fenri, Carter. It sounded-- I don't know-- kinda mechanical. Like a can-opener or something."

Jack O'Neill and Sam Carter walked a few paces behind Teal'c. Their reunion had taken place late the following day. Jack promptly filled them in on the strange thing he had seen. He was eager to hear what Sam would make of this puzzle.

"The Nox possess the technology to make things disappear, but I wonder if we'd still be able to see them in the infared. Nur'ti used phaze-shifting, like the Reetou, to disappear, but that doesn't show up on infrared, either, due to the excitement-- or rather deceleration-- of particles. You see, when particles blue-shift, it means that they are actually moving toward a given point, the point of the observer being..."

This was the moment when Jack's eyes glazed over. "Carter!" he barked. "I'm just a poor, dumb country boy from Minnesota! You're making my brain bleed!"

"Sorry, Sir." Sam offered a small apologetic smile. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure what is happening. I need more data, and perhaps a glimpse of your night-time visitor." She gave a gentle little cough, glancing at him sidelong.

Jack stared back at her. "What?"

"Well, Sir, you said that So'len used a Goa'uld healing device on Daniel."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you let him heal your injuries as well?"

"My injuries?" Jack reached up and touched his still-swollen nose and cheekbone. "I'm fine. I've done worse than this to myself shaving."

Carter shook her head a little. "It could account for your 'seeing things', Sir, if you don't mind my saying..."

"I wasn't 'seeing things' when Daniel appeared out of nowhere, Carter! Something fishy is going on around here!"

"Yes, Sir. I am sure you're right." Sam placated her commanding officer. Time to change the subject before she earned a court marshal. "Do you think that this might have anything to do with the reason we came to this place?"

Jack was briefly taken aback by her suggestion. Their original mission had been to investigate a sub-space beacon that belonged to a long-lost transport vessel that had been sent to collect evidence of civilizations founded by the Tok'ra. The Tok'ra had enlisted the Tau'ri's help because of their alliance, and the fact that no Tok'ra agents could be spared for the journey at this time. The Tok'ra council had deemed that an immediate attempt to retrieve this evidence was very important to the future survival of the Tok'ra as a race, but Jack suspected that it had more to do with the fact that the Tok'ra were trying to keep them out of involvement with other missions; missions that they feared would be compromised by the Tau'ri's policies of 'direct confrontation'. O'Neill had resisted becoming involved, but had been forced to agree when General Hammond ordered SG-1 to participate.

So in the light of how completely balls-up the mission had gone so far, he had very selectively forgotten about the lost vessel. The presence of a Goa'uld ship in the vicinity now seemed even less like a coincidence then it had before.

"The Goa'uld are looking for it, too? Why?"

Teal'c halted and turned back, his face set in thoughtful lines. "If there is some useful technology that this expedition discovered, the Goa'uld would be very interested in obtaining it, or at the least, keeping it from the hands of the Tok'ra." The powerful man turned again to the forward, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the area. "Perhaps we should ask So'len if he has any information on what was discovered during this expedition; for the Council deemed it so important, surely they must suspect something of what was found."

"Tell you what, Teal'c," Jack said with a sigh, annoyed by his own obtuseness, "Why don't you do my thinking from now on, and I'll walk around and look inscrutable; what do you say?"

"If you wish it, O'Neill."

"Let's get back to the ship, kids. I got a few questions for our friend Sullen."


	7. Murphy's Seventh Law: "When working toward the solution of a problem, it always helps if you know the answer. Provided, of course, that you know there is a problem."

"You must believe me, Colonel O'Neill. It was absolutely necessary not to disclose prematurely certain details of this mission." So'len touched his mouth gingerly, regarding his blood-stained fingers with some surprise. "If you or any of your team had been captured and the information somehow extracted, the continued existence of the Tok'ra would be endangered."

"I got news for you, buddy," O'Neill said, his voice somehow both friendly and dangerous," the Tok'ra already are an endangered species, and one member of that species is going to become rapidly extinct if he doesn't come clean... right now!"

From the place where he had fallen after O'Neill had communicated his displeasure at being excluded from key intelligence for the mission for which he had not volunteered, So'len looked up to see a man who appeared unnaturally tall. The righteousness of his anger made So'len feel smaller yet. There was a spark in the dark eyes that challenged him, dared him to try to hold back more information, and a tension in the man's clenched fists that spoke a promise of violence to come. Ranged behind him stood his team; brilliant and serious, worried and determined, strong and deadly. They were waiting for the answers that they knew, without a shadow of any doubt, that So'len would give to the Colonel.

"There is no need for this, Colonel O'Neill. I am prepared to tell you everything. May I please get up?"

"You can get up, but if I suspect that I am not getting the Gospel According To Jack, I won't promise not to knock you back down."

So'len levered himself up, wincing. Jack nodded to Teal'c, who grasped the Tok'ra by the tunic and lifted him smoothly and effortlessly to his feet. The large man carefully patted out the creases and remained standing very close to him. So'len glanced between them, then nodded to O'Neill.

Jack leaned back against the control pillar, inclining his head slightly. "I'm listening."

So'len drew a breath. "The only persons who have knowledge of the things I am about to reveal to you are the oldest members of the High Council of the Tok'ra. Not even to the most trusted of our people was shared the hopes and efforts behind this story. There are those among us who would oppose what is sought, and those among the Goa'uld and other races who would go to great lengths to prevent our success.

"Nine years ago, a group of Tok'ra embarked upon this mission of secrecy. Their names were Ganon and Timyr. Together with myself, they were students of the oldest histories of the Goa'uld and Tok'ra. They studied the very beginnings, all the journals and testimonials written by and pertaining to Egeria, the Queen of the Tok'ra, hoping to get a clue to how our hopes might come about.

"First, let me say that Ganon and Timyr and I were the closest friends, as well as being partners in our research. We have shared long years of our lives together, companions to each other's hosts and symbiotes, and our efforts have always had a single objective."

So'len dropped his voice, as if fearing that somehow they might be overheard. "It was-- is our goal, to find a way to bring about a change in the nature of our selves, to make it possible for more Tok'ra to be brought into life.

"We seek to create a new queen of the Tok'ra."

~~~

O'Neill looked both interested and slightly nauseated. "Can they do that, Carter?"

"I suppose it is possible, Sir. I don't know much about the physiology of the Tok'ra or the Goa'uld, but I know that they do reproduce asexually, the queens being able to fertilize themselves to create the larva, which then mature into symbiotes. Now, there are examples of certain amphibians on Earth that are capable of switching sexes in a single-sex environment, so it is not unheard of in nature. So'len, is it really possible for a symbiote to become a queen?"

"We believed it to be possible, even though after all the years of our research no absolute proof could be found. Ganon and Timyr undertook a mission to explore a very old settlement where we thought more evidence might be found. I would have accompanied them but for the fact that my host had reached the end of his life, and I was unable to travel. I had hopes to rejoin them but I was thwarted. It took too long to locate a willing host, and by the time we had blended and began to look for them, my friends had disappeared. They were presumed lost by the High Council.

"I grieved long for my friends, believing them victim of the Goa'uld or some unforeseen tragedy. No trace of their ship or word of their movements before their disappearance ever came to light, until the sub-space beacon was detected. It was low-coded, designed to be undetectable by the Goa'uld or other races, to preserve the secrecy of our research. It took many years to travel through space to reach us, and it took long also to persuade the informed members of the Council to allow me to investigate. No other Tok'ra could be informed; there have been spies among us. The risk was too great. My only recourse was to turn to our allies; the Tau'ri are bold and strong and young of mind, but they are true in heart. I believed that you would help me, once you knew the truth of the matter."

"And why don't you bottom-line this 'truth of the matter' for me?" O'Neill's words were sarcastic, but his face was open with interest.

"The Tok'ra are a dying race. If we had means to increase our number, the fight we bring to the Goa'uld would redouble! We would come at last to the time when we can eradicate them from the worlds that they terrorize!"

Daniel had a doubtful look on his face. He was tugging at his lip, his eyes moving from Jack to So'len.

Jack nodded toward him. "What?"

"I'm... not sure, Jack. So'len, you said that there are those among the Tok'ra that would oppose the creation of a new queen. Why?"

"Some believe it to be an impossibility, others believe that such a thing is immoral to attempt. There is a faction among the Tok'ra that feel that our existance is countenancable only to combat the Goa'uld, and that to increase our number would potentially make us as parasitical as our enemies." So'len hesitated, seeing the look on O'Neill's face. A touch of bitterness was in his voice as he said, "Even you could be convinced of this, Colonel. I am aware of your distaste for our race."

"Hey. I don't dislike all the Tok'ra. Just the ones that like to spring little surprises on me. And the ones who try to get me killed. Okay, I only really like one Tok'ra, and while it is unlikely that I will ever be elected the President of the Tok'ra Fan Club, I do have a measure of respect for what all of you have been trying to do, concerning the Goa'uld. The Tok'ra have been good allies to us."

"As you have been to us, O'Neill." So'len said soberly. "It was our intention to discover if this thing could be possible, then gather our people and present them with the option to excersize that possibility. An event that concerns all Tok'ra must be decided by all Tok'ra. We planned no subterfuge. We were aware that an increase in the number of the Tok'ra would naturally equate to an increase in the number of hosts required to sustain us. I confess that I harboured within my own heart the desire to bring a better understanding between our peoples, to perhaps eventually open the door to more blendings between our races. I believe that the Tau'ri are essential to the continued survival of the Tok'ra. More than as hosts, Colonel. As beings of passion and integrity, as demonstrated in Selmak and Jacob Carter. Such blendings would only improve both our peoples. This is my belief, and my great hope."

"Yes, but all this hope and belief is just academic, right?" Daniel said, gesturing vaguely between So'len and himself. "You said yourself that you have found no proof that this can be done, no way to bring it about. So why are we here? Do you think that this beacon will lead you to your friends? Why were the Goa'uld waiting for us?"

So'len looked honestly distraught. "I cannot see how they could have known about our research, unless they captured and compromised my friends. I firmly believe that they would have died rather than to reveal their knowledge..." the Tok'ra's eyes dipped, resignation to his private hopes dying on his face. In a very soft voice, he said, "We all know that even with our policies, the Tok'ra can be compromised." Then his eyes raised, and there came a flash of light from them as anger welled up inside him. "But if they were taken and questioned, then why would the beacon have been activated? The Goa'uld would never want us to find what happened to them, and it would be unnecessary to lure me to them, as they would already know everything that I knew. I believe, Colonel-- in my heart-- that my friends are here on this planet, and we have little time before another Goa'uld comes to destroy us."


	8. Murphy's Eighth Law: "Behind every small problem there is a larger problem, waiting for the small one to get out of the way."

Three parameter laps wasn't enough. As soon as Jack had finished his circuit of the landing site, he began yet another sweep, seeking for more than the usual potential dangers. He had a deeply uneasy feeling brewing in his mind, after having listened to So'len's story. He placed his feet carefully, looking for snakes.

He sensed a presence behind him but he didn't turn to look. He knew it was Teal'c. If it wasn't Teal'c, he knew Teal'c would be right behind whoever it was, friend or foe. Jack couldn't explain it, and it would never occur to him to try. He just 'knew' it. He let his eyes roam over the trees and bushes, waiting for his friend to join him.

Teal'c stepped up beside him, turning so that he and Jack were facing past one another's shoulders. The expression on his face, normally of eminent composure, was now one of granite disquiet.

Jack waited for a long moment before speaking. "What's on your mind, T?"

The jaffa's answer was an eloquent silence.

"Come on, Teal'c," Jack said cajolingly. "Throw me a bone, here. What's eating you?"

It was the way that Teal'c didn't raise his eyebrow that told Jack his friend was seriously upset. He didn't press Teal'c any more, knowing he would get no answers before the jaffa was ready to talk.

Together, they continued the sweep of the area. Neither man wanted to return to the ship, to stand idle while Sam, Daniel, and So'len laboured over the final repairs; the delicate realignment of the control crystals. After the Tok'ra had told them the truth, each member of SG-1 had worked determinedly to bring the ship back to readiness, quietly digesting the news they had heard. With Jack, that news had not digested well. And, apparently, he wasn't the only one who had trouble swallowing it. Once the structure of the hold had been repaired, there was nothing more that Jack could help with except to guard his companions as they finished fixing the technical thingums. He had ordered himself and Teal'c out on patrol.

Jack was beginning to think he had memorize every cracked limb and gouged patch of earth by the time Teal'c finally decided to speak his mind. There came a subtle difference in the way the man carried himself. Jack raised his fist, then opened his hand palm down, motioning gently. He and Teal'c both melted into the bushes, where they were quite invisible to any casual observation.

"The words of So'len have left me with a great sense of disquiet, O'Neill." The jaffa's voice was just loud enough to be heard. "I have pledged my allegiance to the Tau'ri, but my heart is sworn to the goal of gaining freedom for all Jaffa. It is something that I have worked toward and dreamed of all my life. It is with the need for the sustaining power of a prim'ta that the Goa'uld enslave the Jaffa. Through our association with the Tau'ri, an alternative to this slavery has been found. The substance Tritonin has freed me and many of my kinsmen from the power the Goa'uld hold over us. I have allowed myself to hope that it would lead to freedom for all of my race.

"But the production of Tritonin also depends upon other races. The Tok'ra, from whom the substance originated, and the Tau'ri, who have worked with the Tok'ra to perfect it. While I trust you and General Hammond, I realize that there are others among the Tau'ri who might use this dependence by the Jaffa to manipulate us. And like you, I have limited trust for the Tok'ra. It has been demonstrated that certain individuals among the Tok'ra that they will do whatever they deem necessary for their own survival, regardless of loss of comrade or ally." Teal'c fell silent after this statement, the conflict within him reflecting upon his features.

Jack watched him, his own feelings mixed. He was glad that Teal'c had spoken to him of this privately, and he was also filled with trepidation, because what Teal'c was telling him had occurred to him earlier, and he could not defend it. "Teal'c," Jack said at last, his long fingers worrying the strap from which his P90 hung, "I am hoping that we're going to find a way to make Tritonin without the help of ANY kind of goulds, or better yet, a way to make it so that your people won't need either drugs or symbiotes. It's just going to take time."

"This is a hope that I share, and in my heart I believe that it is possible. But upon contemplating the words of So'len, the true matter for my distress is revealed to me."

Jack waited as Teal'c paused, his impatience finally winning. "Well? Reveal it to me, why don't you?"

Teal'c raised his head proudly, as if bracing himself for punishment. "I feel temptation, O'Neill."

Jack blinked. "Temptation?"

"Tritonin frees me from carrying a prim'ta, an act as truly distasteful to me as the idea of it is to you," Teal'c gave his human friend a small smile. "But the strength and perfect health with which I was enabled by that act is useful to a warrior, and I find myself entertaining a conflicting desire. Should the Tok'ra succeed in cultivating a new queen, her children will still need to come to maturity before they can take a host. And so it comes to my mind, unbidden, the idea of bearing a prim'ta that will not grow into an evil being..." Teal'c stopped, unable to continue. There came a long moment before he added, "I do not see the Jaffa and the Tok'ra becoming such good allies that we would be entrusted with this task. There is much mistrust between our races. But I find myself yearning for that strength again, and wishing to use that power granted by a prim'ta to fight as I have been. It pains me to wish for freedom and power. It seems that one cannot possess both and remain good of heart."

"It seems that way." Jack felt a wave of anger on his friend's behalf. Just the idea of the thing had ruffled Teal'c's feathers in a way Jack had never seen before. No one should have to be used as the Jaffa had been used by the Goa'uld. "There are better things to be had than freedom or power, T."

Teal'c turned his dark eyes to meet Jack's. "Indeed."

Jack nodded and looked away. Teal'c had a stare deeper than outer space. "Well, since we're 'sharing', I'll tell you what's bugging me: the idea of making more goulds... even friendly ones, if you can call the Tok'ra friendly, which I don't. Still, wiping out the Goa'uld is a fine ambition, and one that I tend to want to support."

It was another long, quiet moment before Teal'c rumbled gently his response. "So long as the Tok'ra do not become as the Goa'uld have become."

"T, I'm glad you said that; because I've been thinking it ever since we met the Tok'ra."


	9. Murphy's Ninth Law: "Chaos will win over Order, because it is better organized."

It was only by the training and years of conditioning that O'Neill didn't jump clear of his skin when his radio suddenly crackled in his ear. Teal'c saluted him with a single eyebrow, making Jack feel all the more ridiculous. He shot his dark friend a dirty look, then thumbed the transmitter.

"Report, Major."

"Sir. We're nearly finished here. We just need to run system's checks and we'll be ready to light this candle. We could use Teal'c's help."

"Affirmative. I'm sending him in now. I want those shields up and that ship airborne as soon as possible. Radio me when we are ready to go. I want to be home in time for supper."

There came a click, as if Carter was about to respond, then another voice cut in over her words. "Go? Colonel O'Neill, we cannot go until we locate that which we came to find!"

"Oh, but we can. 'Why', do you ask?" added Jack, with venomous sarcasm, "Because I said so, and it says 'Colonel' on my uniform. That's why."

"But... we've come all this way! We're here now, and the beacon is mere kilometers..."

"Do I need to remind you that we were fired upon by a Goa'uld on your 'top- secret- nobody- knows- but- us- chickens' mission? Reality check, Sullen: It's not a secret anymore. I'm not risking the lives of my team any further on this fiasco. We'll get back to the SGC, report what we've seen, then return with back-up and find your precious beacon. Maybe."

So'len sputtered with indignation. "With respect, Colonel, this is my mission... the work of my life! I--"

"We are not having this conversation over the radio. Keep this channel clear! Carter!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Fuming, Jack nodded to Teal'c, and they both began to make their way back to the ship. Focused on his anger at So'len's single-mindedness, he was taken by surprise when Teal'c whirled and armed his staff weapon, a fluid and deadly motion. The air all around them was suddenly full of fire.

O'Neill dove to the ground, bursts of staff-fire singing the air and striking the ground with deafening blasts. Teal'c danced around, narrowly dodging the criss-crossing lines of power. Finally, he threw himself down in the small wallow that O'Neill had found, little more than a declivity overgrown with grass.

Jack yelled into his radio. "Carter! Get those shields up and get that ship in the air! We've got company!" He twisted about, trying to bring up his P90 to return fire, but they were pinned down. The ground right before his eyes erupted, spraying him with burning pebbles.

"...Sir? We...take off and bring weapons to bear..." the broadcast broke and chittered, fouled by the deadly rain. "... Ring transporter not functioning yet! Repeat: The ring transporter is not ..."

"Take off!! Get clear and don't come down 'til we take care of business!"

The ship rose with a groan, the shields shimmering as blast after blast splattered uselessly against the hull. The massive shadow fell over O'Neill and Teal'c. Jack managed to clear the dirt from his eyes in time to see the weapons riding on the underbelly of the ship emerge and swivel, launching retina-piercing stars in the direction of the weapon's fire that was holding them down. Chrysanthemums bloomed in fiery glory; the ground shook and more debris rained down, hot and smoking. The wind carried the smoke over O'Neill and Teal'c, carrying the odor of charred metal and flesh.

The snipers firing from the trees redoubled their efforts, trying to keep the two men pinned. But Teal'c and O'Neill took advantage of the smoke and chaos to split up, rolling and crawling to new positions. Each time a blast came toward their abandoned hollow, Jack's P90 coughed and another jaffa dropped. Teal'c traded volleys with a stubborn marksman, slowly blasting away the cover that they each were hiding behind.

Movement flitted across O'Neill's vision as he lay, one cheek pillowed on his shoulder as he took aim at his next target. It drew his eyes even as he fired. The jaffa that he had missed now raised his weapon, firing at something in the air between the scoutship and O'Neill's position. He seemed to have forgotten completely about O'Neill and Teal'c. Jack squeezed off a round which insured that the jaffa never repeated that mistake.

The other jaffa were now firing toward the air as well, beating a slow retreat. The cargo ship began dropping salvos of fire to encourage their haste.

Jack turned his attention to the sky. A thin line of smoke and sparks made visible what he had not seen earlier, and he realized that his midnight visitor had returned. One of the jaffa must have gotten a lucky shot. A barely-detectable whine reached his ears, and as he watched the object spiraled toward the ground and ploughed up a furrow in the soft soil where the scoutship had once rested.

"Teal'c, Carter! Pursue and neutralize!" Jack slapped a new magazine into his P90, then ran back. He doubted that anything could have survived that crash, but he needed to see what it was.

The jaffa had retreated, but O'Neill moved with excess caution, running crouched and holding his weapon steady before him. Once he reached the trough left behind by the scoutship, he threw himself down and crawled with elbows until he reached the thing that had fallen from the sky. It was still smoking, spitting an occasional spark. It appeared to be an oval disk made of metal, about the size of a child's sled. There was a sizable hole blasted through it, and inside delicate mechanisms slowly fused in the heat. Jack prodded it with the barrel of his gun.

A groan came from further along the furrow, and Jack now saw a trail where someone appeared to have dragged themselves some distance. He approached carefully, now hearing what sounded like colourful curses being muttered in an unfamiliar language.

Not far from the wreckage he found what he was looking for. A boy or a young man, clothing torn and burned. One of his legs was twisted and bloody. He looked back at O'Neill with a daring glimmer in his eye, the device on his hand glowing and pointed straight at Jack's heart.


	10. Murphy's Tenth Law: "Nothing is impossible for the man who doesn't have to do it himself."

"Whoa... whoa--oh there, buddy!" Jack raised his other hand, the one not still wrapped around his P90, and made what he hoped would be calming motions to the boy. He didn't want to shoot him, even if the kid did have a goa'uld hand-device ready to cook Jack's brain or blast him back through the hill. Goa'ulds couldn't be reasoned with, but they could be flattered into making mistakes, sometimes. "You got me! Don't shoot!"

No ribbon of pain lashed out, no field of energy struck him like twenty ill-tempered mules in the chest. The hand wavered, glowing light flickering like a shorted-out flashlight. The wounded boy dropped his hand and turned, taking a shaky handful of soil to start pulling himself away. Strength and will failed him at last, and he fell forward onto the ground and did not move.

Jack moved swiftly, to secure the device and check to see if the boy was still alive. He was, but his injuries were bad, his leg was clearly broken and he was covered with abrasions. Jack reached toward his neck to feel for a pulse, his hand freezing as he remembered belatedly that the child had used goa'uld technology, which meant that he was more than likely a goa'uld himself. The anger that Jack felt toward the goa'uld, concealed beneath the surface of carefully maintained control, burned hot again within him. What those bastards would do to a child, or even a person, made him want to punish and to kill. He hooked a finger around the thing on the boy's hand and moved to throw it away, then he stopped. It was not a ribbon device at all, but something similar to what So'len had used to heal Daniel. He slipped it into his pocket, then reached for his radio.

"Carter! What's your position?"

Carter's voice, strong and prompt, came over the radio. "Colonel, we are in pursuit of the hostiles."

"What about our ground support?"

"Two hundred yards from your position, Colonel, on your six. There are still at least three jaffa out here that we've seen. They're heading into the woods as fast as they can run. Shall we continued pursuit? Over."

"Negative. I got a man down back here, in need of medical attention. Teal'c, are you monitoring?"

"I am, O'Neill. I will be at your side within a few moments."

"Bring it on, T. Carter, beat it back here and pick us up."

"Affirmative. Carter out."

O'Neill bent over the boy to tell him to hang on, but the roar of an approaching ship drowned his words. The great shadow obscured the sky, the round ring transport device opened above them like a eye. Too large a shadow to be their little scoutship, and too close to run for cover. O'Neill had just enough time to realize this before the rings descended and obscured the crushed greenery and overturned soil were replaced by several jaffa offering the business ends of their staff weapons.

O'Neill showed them his open hands, offering a half-grimace at his captors. "Kree, already! Just take it easy, guys."

One of the jaffa prodded O'Neill with his staff, delivering a stinging shock. He moved back, aware that all the jaffa had to do was trigger his weapon and he'd have a hole big enough to toss a softball through his middle. He watched anxiously as another jaffa knelt beside the boy. The jaffa uttered string of words in Goa'uld. Two other jaffa came forward and grabbed the boy by the arms. He hung limply between them.

"Hey!..." was all O'Neill managed to say before the friendly end of the staff weapon swung around and connected with his head. Stunned, he fell back against the wall, but he remained aware, watching in a mixture of despair and relief as they lifted the boy and lowered him into what could only be a Goa'uld sarcophagus. So the boy would live, at least for a while. Probably longer than O'Neill himself. Then darkness descended with all the wings of nightmare, to bear him away on into the lonely places inside his head.

~~~

When Jack woke up, he found that he was laying in darkness as complete as his dreams. He lay still, listening, until he determined that he was in a small room with one other living thing, something that breathed and made small movements. The loud, jarring footsteps of marching jaffa counterpointed the pounding in his head. Jack raised his aching head and reached for his weapon, but found instead a small hand. A soft voice urged him to remain quiet, until the footsteps faded and all was silent again.

"Who are you?" the voice asked. Calm, soft, curious. Jack couldn't hear any pain in that voice, and only a touch of fear. A young voice, and yet one containing much dignity.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF."

"Curl-nel?"

"Just call me Jack. What's your name?"

"I was called Tegan by my parents. Why do you have so many names?"

Jack smiled, even though he knew that the lad couldn't see him; it was pitch-black in their small room. "I've been called a lot of things. After a while, they just stick to you, I guess. Where are your parents, Tegan?"

"Gone. They have been dead for many cycles. But I have been alone for a long time, ever since they died. There has been no one to give me more names."

"That's alright, kid. Are you still hurt, Tegan?"

"No. I woke up and my leg was better. The jaffa brought me here a while ago. You were asleep and you wouldn't wake up even though I accidentally stepped on you. Sorry."

"Don't worry, I'm tough." Jack reached out in the darkness toward the voice, touching the lad's shoulders. He reached up to the top of his head and tousled his hair gently. "Can you tell me what happened? Before I found you?"

"I was trying to warn you about the jaffa. They crashed about the same time as your ship, but there wasn't much left of their vessel. Only a few survived, and they were badly injured. I tried to help, but they shot their weapons at me. I decided I didn't like them."

"I don't like them either." Jack slowly stood up, feeling the walls and roof of their prison. It was very small, about five feet wide and maybe a little longer, with a ceiling that forced Jack to stoop to avoid scraping his head. "What is this, a gould broom-closet?"

"What is a broom?"

"Never mind. You don't like jaffa, so you came to warn us?"

"I heard them say that they were going to steal your ship, so I came to warn you."

"Was it you who brought Daniel to our ship, back a few days ago?"

"Dan-el? The one with the glass circles on his eyes? He is your friend, yes?"

"Yes. I'm grateful that you did that. He was hurt bad."

"He was worse when I found him. I had a thing that my parents left to me, that knits torn flesh and eases pain. I used it on him so that he would not die. It worked. It didn't work on my parents, but it worked this time." The boy's voice was laden with sadness when he spoke of his parents, but there was a spark of pride and pluck in him as well.

Jack swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "You did good, kid." Stepping carefully, he seated himself against the wall beside Tegan. He felt the touch of a thin shoulder against the rough cloth of his sleeve. His head was throbbing, and he could feel the stiffness of dried blood in his face. The coldness of the wall against his back was almost soothing, though he knew it would grow uncomfortable before long. It was probably quite uncomfortable now for his small companion. His jacket, utility vest, belt, and of course his weapons, were all gone. He had the clothes on his back and not much more than that. He felt his pockets anyway, hoping the jaffa had overlooked something.

His fingers found the irregular lump in his pocket; the glowing device that he had taken from Tegan's hand. He fished it out and examined it in the dark with his fingertips. "What is this thing, anyway? It doesn't look like one of those healing devices that the Tok'ra use."

Small and eager fingers crept up his arm and took the device from his hands. "You have it? I believed it lost!" Jack heard the boy moving excitedly, then jerked his head back as a bright light suddenly glowed before his eyes. A circle of yellow and reddish light illuminated the boy's hand, casting shadows back against the metal walls. Jack saw the young face lit up, striped by the shadows of his fingers outstretched.

Jack's unease returned as the thing lit up, too too close to his face. "Uh, watch where you're pointing that thing, okay kiddo? It might go off."

The young man smiled. "I won't hurt you, Jack."

"Well, I'd feel better anyway," Jack said, and with one long finger he touched the boy's outstretched hand and moved it aside. The lad lowered his hand, turning his palm upward to cast the warm light around them.

The light served to show how small their prison was. Jack looked around carefully for a door or window, or some other means of escape, firmly ignoring a bout of clausterphobia. "Tell me something, Tigger," he said as he stood to run his fingers along the cracks in one wall, "What were your parents' names?"

"Mother and Father, I called them," Tegan answered. Then he paused, his head turning slightly as if he were listening to a faint noise. "Ganon. Tymir. That was their names. Why do you call me..."

Jack turned back to him quickly, surprised. "Wait... are you saying that the Tok'ra Ganon and Tymir were your parents? I thought that having kids was against the gould-rules?" He stared at the boy who looked up at him. "Does that mean that you have a symbiote, too?"

"No, I don't. My Father told me I was special, and that one day I might choose to have a symbiote. But you shouldn't know this, Jack," the boy began to look concerned. "It's a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Jack looked down at the young boy. His answer was lost in the sound of marching feet, growing louder and nearer to their prison. Jack knelt and put his hand on Tegan's shoulder. "I won't tell anyone, Tigger," he whispered into his ear, "but you better put that gadget away for now. We're about to have company."


	11. Murphy's Eleventh Law: "There is never time to do it right, but there is always time to do it over."

O'Neill let his breath escape him in a silent puff as the sound of the marching jaffa passed them and faded away. He couldn't hope that they'd forget about them for long, but at least now he had a bit more time to think.

Who the hell were these jaffa, anyway? He had seen different markings on their brows, black glyphs designed to indicate to which goa'uld the jaffa served. He hadn't recognized any of them, and had not had an opportunity to bring it up in polite conversation. He doubted that these jaffa were familiar with the concept of polite conversation.

And what in hell were they doing on Planet Murphy? The chance of coincidence was right out; one goa'uld al'Kesh was improbable enough... but two? Unless the first one had managed to get off a distress call, which could have brought reinforcements but might also have attracted unwanted attention from rival goa'ulds. The other option was that this al'Kesh was here at the same time they had arrived, but had remained cloaked and hidden while the other two fought it out. Sent by one of said rival goa'ulds, perhaps?

It was seeming less and less likely that So'len's little secret was a secret anymore.

O'Neill became aware then that his small companion who was sitting rigidly beside him. Tegan had not uttered a sound, remaining as still as a mouse when the hawk glides overhead. He did not tremble or cry, as one might expect a lad of his age to do. As the footsteps finally faded away completely, Jack heard the slightest escape of pent breath.

O'Neill resisted the urge to put his arm around the boy. He remembered what it meant to be small and frightened, but badly in need of dignity. He contented himself by leaning over until his arm touched the small shoulder.

"You know why those guys are always so grouchy? Their false gods won't let them wear any padded boxers under their armour. It is cold and it pinchs; take my word for it. And it makes enough noise to wake the dead."

Tegan's whispered response was barely loud enough for Jack to hear, "Stealth is unnecessary when ends can be accomplished by terror. This is the way the Goa'uld have instructed their jaffa. To them it is preferable to appear to be able to conquor by pure strength. In their eyes such is more fitting behaviour for a god."

Jack peered through the darkness toward the boy. Such words did not seem right coming from the mouth of a child, yet the wisdom was undeniably sound. "Tegan," Jack said carefully, "How do you know that?"

A faint luminescence appeared, cupped in the boy's fingers; he had placed the device on his hand again, and was staring into its golden light. "I remember it."

Jack stared at him. Who was this boy, and how could he remember such things if he was not Blended? Questions without answers surged through his mind, but O'Neill remained quiet, giving them no voice. He needed to concentrate on what was required of him, which was to escape and regroup with the rest of SG-1. He and the kid had to get out of this cell.

"Hold that thing up, Tigger. Let me see if I can find a door." Tegan complied, the light growing stronger as he unsheilded the device. Jack found grooves along one wall that seemed to indicate an opening. He prized and pushed on the panel, but it made no move. "I guess we're going to have to wait until they open it, and hope that there aren't too many to take at once." Jack pressed his ear against the wall, trying to hear if there was a guard outside. He heard nothing, but the walls were thick. "They want you alive, so you just stay in here when the door opens. If things go badly, at least you'll be alright. Get away while they're busy with me."

"Use this," Tegan said, and the took the device off of his hand, plunging them into darkness again. "If you focus your thoughts, you can use it as a weapon."

Jack took the thing, but laid it in the boys palm again. "I can't do it, Tigger. I don't have the mojo to use goa'uld technology."

"Mo-jo?--"

"Never mind, kid."

Tegan activated the thing again, lighting up his face. Jack could clearly see his bright eyes, regarding him with trust and determination. "I can help, Jack. When the jaffa come, I shall assist you. It may be that we shall both escape."

Jack grinned down at him. "No 'maybe's about it, kid. As soon as they come back, we are so outta here."


	12. Murphy's 12th Law: "If everything has been going wrong, something is bound to go right."

Udimu sat on his padded throne, waiting for his underlings to bring his captives before him. He wore an attitude of relaxed superiority, but it was a mask to conceal that he was seething. It galled him-- infuriated him-- that his power and majesty should be so little recongnized at the present. It had taken too long to locate the harsesis as well as an expenditure of much naquada and slaves that he could not spare. The System Lords had shut him down at every turn; luckily for him, a goa'uld could buy anything for the right amount of naquada.

The cost of the location of this planet had been great; enough mineral to build a Ha'tac, and a third of his jaffa had died in the raid upon Kali's territory while stealing it. It angered him that it should cost him anything. Could not it be seen that he had a right to whatever his heart declared to him? To negotiate price and offer payment was beneath the consideration of a God.

It was unseeming as well for a God to lower himself to such petty outbursts, therefore Udimu could not rage and rant in his frustration. He raised his chin high and leaned back, trying to forget the humiliation he was suffering by indulging in daydreams of glory and conquest to come.

His body servants and guards pretended that they did not hear Udimu speak. The God often spoke aloud to Himself. It was more than their lives were worth to interrupt Him.

"Soon", the God said, long fingers stroking the underside of his chin, "I will at last take my rightful place as a System Lord... perhaps even become a Power great enough to humble the System Lords! Surely one such as I, Udimu the Vast and Terrible, should not be expected to stand beside such lowly goa'ulds as Bastet or Ba'al! I shall be hailed as the greatest Goa'uld Lord all!" 

Lost in his fantasies, Udimu was not aware that a hooded jaffa had escorted the boy before him until the jaffa tapped his staff gently on the floor. The boy was kneeling in front of the jaffa in an attitude of dejection and surrender.

The Goa'uld looked upon the child with greedy eyes. He was strong of limb but much younger than any host he had ever taken before. "I should wait," the Goa'uld said softly, as if still speaking to himself. "I should cultivate this host for a few years, until the body has reached the ideal conditions for absorbtion. But I have searched and waited for a long time, and I will not take the chance of losing you again. Jaffa!" He turned glowing eyes upon the warrior who stood over the boy. "Where is the human prisoner? Did I not order that he should be brought before me as well!" 

The jaffa stiffened, striking his breast in a salute to his god. "My lord," the jaffa's voice was muffled by the closed hood, "the human is dead."

Udimu sat up, his carefully sustained aura of calm dissipating in a fresh wave of fury. "Is it not customary to kneel before your God when he deigns to speak to you?" He raised his hand, the ribbon device glowing on his palm. "I should strike you down for this insolence!" 

The jaffa knelt, his ill-fitting armour clanking, and bowed his head. In his hand, the staff weapon assumed a seemingly innocent angle toward Udimu. But the goa'uld was too insensed to notice. He focused on the device, prepared to strike down the jaffa. So what if the numbers of his jaffa had been decimated... surely one more would not make too great a difference.

The boy looked up, frozen between the doomed jaffa and the goa'uld. Udimu frowned, not wanting to risk harming the child he had hunted for so long. "Stand aside, harsesis! I will show you what happens to those who defy their God!"

"Defy this, snakehead."

The boy dodged aside, just before the jaffa thumbed the trigger on his staff weapon. A neath hole the size of a bowling ball appeared through Udimu's chest. The goa'uld had reached for his wrist to turn on his bodyshield rather than release the blast from his ribbon device. He fell back on his throne with a look of amazement, watching the smoke rising from his bowels. He seemed more surprised that his servants and guards did nothing to leap to his aid as he slid from the seat and died upon the floor. 

When the desperate gould symbiote wormed out of the dead host, a heavy jaffa boot came down and crushed the life from it.

O'Neill gave his heel a twist to finish the job. "God, I love my work!"


	13. Murphy's 13th Law: "In the end, only Entropy wins."

"You can't have him."

"Colonel, you don't understand... my life's work! Decades of research! The sacrifice of Ganen and Timyr--"

"He's not yours-- or anyone else's-- work! He's a nine year old boy and he doesn't want to have a snake in his head. Nor does he want to be a guinea pig in Anise's Lab of Horrors. You came here to find out if your buddies were alive or dead and to recover their research. You got your answers and your precious data. Take it and go back home."

SG-1 and So'len were standing beside their ship, landed some distance from the hull of the ship where the tok'ra had found the record crystals of his deceased partners. Carter and Daniel were still poking around in the craft, which had been salvaged beyond repair to construct the living quarters where Tegan had lived alone for so long. Teal'c was standing behind Jack as he laid down the law for So'len concerning Tegan.

But So'len wasn't listening. "I am not leaving here without the child! He is the cumulation of the research! We need him... to study him... in order to understand--"

Jack resisted the urge to seize the tok'ra around his neck and shake him. "Not going to happen, Sullen. It's his choice. Making him a Tok'ra is just going to up the ante on whatever bounty the System Lords set on his head. You don't need him-- you've already got the memories of the Tok'ra. There's nothing he can add to your research."

"We will protect him! They will never stop hunting--"

"Protect him? He's been doing a damn good job of protecting us! I don't think he needs our help, and he certainly doesn't need the Tok'ra's idea of protection. Shall we ask Shawn'loc about that? How about Kanen and Shaylin? Your protection is for crap! You Tok'ra would throw away anyone's life to reach your goals, even if those lives are not yours to throw away. Not everyone has the same goals as you, buddy!"

"The goals of the Tok'ra were once your goals, Colonel O'Neill," So'len said, his chin raised defiantly though his eyes still  
reflected his fear of this fierce tau'ri man. "Do you not wish an end to the Goa'uld and all the evil that they perpetuate?"

"Not at the cost of a child's life!"

Daniel used the pause in their shouted argument to gently intervene. "So'len, please try to understand. The Tau'ri value life and freedom. If we don't give Tegan a chance to choose his own path, we are no better than the Goa'uld."

"I will let him choose. Allow me to speak with him."

"I already spoke to him," Jack said firmly. "He's not interested."

"Can I not hear it from him?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Jack leaned back against the hull of the ship, lazily checking his wristwatch. "'Cause he's probably about a million light-years from here by now."

"WHAT?" So'len was tugging at his hair in frustration. Daniel and Sam looked surprised, too, though Teal'c wore his usual serene smile.

"Oh, yeah. The slaves and jaffa aboard Emu's ship were rather grateful to be released from service, him being a great big pain in the butt and all. Teal'c arranged for them to meet up with Bra'tac so they can join the rebel Jaffa. They were pretty keen to join up," O'Neill swiveled toward Teal'c with a grin, "Weren't they?"

"Indeed, they were most enthusiastic," Teal'c did not bother to try to supress a wide smile.

"You have given a harsesis over to the hands of the jaffa? And you think they will not use him in their skirmishes against the goa'uld?" So'len was practically apoplectic at this point.

"Oh, no. Tegan is just going to drop them off at the meeting place. There's a handful who decided to stay with him, those who don't have homes to go back to anymore. He told them they could stay with him if they agreed not to treat him like a god."

So'len's face was turning red, and his eyes were flashing as his symbiote grew more agitated within him. "You have prejudiced him against us! What did you say to him that drove him away?"

O'Neill's face lost all trace of amusement as he retorted, "I didn't have to say anything to Tegan. He's got the memories of the Tok'ra, remember? Specifically, the memories of your partners Ganen and Tymir. Don't you wonder why they snuck off while you were busy finding a new host and never returned? They didn't trust you, So'len. You knew that the experiment would fail, didn't you? Well, so did they! They realised that you had manipulated them. They suspected that you'd try to use their child, so they took the first chance they got to escape together."

So'len looked shocked. "No, no... that is not how it was at all! I genuinely believed that we would succeed-- that we can still succeed! With the right genetic manipulation, the harsesis can mature to blend with a symbiote and be able to produce larvae. If the child had been born female--" So'len looked from the tauri soldier to the jaffa entreatingly. "Please. With the child I can continue the experiment. You know what this might mean to the Tok'ra!"

"I am more concerned with what this means to a little boy. The kid's got the right to choose, and he doesn't need me or you to think for him. He knows who he can trust. I told him to look up Selmac if he ever needed anything from the Tok'ra."

"And you," So'len sneered at O'Neill. "I am sure you told him that he could trust you."

"You know what," O'Neill smiled, "I didn't have to tell him that, either." Jack nodded to Teal'c, who came to stand beside So'len like a silent but menacing shadow. So'len did not resist as the jaffa escorted him to the cargo hold where he would be secured for the duration of the voyage home. SG-1 followed them aboard.

Sam Carter slipped into the co-pilot seat, beginning the preflight check. "Think you can handle her, Sir? This is no Death Glider."

"Yeah, I can do it. Teal'c's been giving me lessons." He settled into the chair with a sigh, reaching by habit for the non-existant seat harness. He shook his head slightly, then took the controls. Smoothly, the ship responded to his commands and they began their journey.

Daniel was standing behind O'Neill, tugging on his lip. "Do you really think Tegan will be alright, out there on his own? I mean, it's a big galaxy, and the goa'uld won't give up on looking for him."

"He'll be fine," Jack answered confidently. "That's why I call him 'Tigger'... he bounces back."

Sam smiled as she listened to them bantering, then turned to examine the control panel beside her. Under the console, she knocked her knee painfully against something metal. "Ouch! What is this--" She extracted a long, flat package wrapped in cloth. Ignoring O'Neill's protests, she and Daniel unwrapped it.

"It looks like a steel boogie-board," Sam said, turning it over.

O'Neill looked embarrassed. "Well, yeah... Tigger gave it to me."

"What is it, Sir?" Her clever fingers found a panel and she opened it, regarding the matrix of crystals and wires within.

"It's one of those anti-gravity sleds that he was riding around on, down on Planet Murphy. I asked him to make me one." As Daniel and Sam exchanged glances, Jack turned toward them. "What? It looks like fun! You know, Carter... F. U. N.? As in 'playing-with-a- naquada-reactor' fun!"

"What do you think General Hammond will say about this?"

"Let him get his own! Besides, he won't know if you don't tell him."

"Well, we'd have to have a pretty good reason not to, Sir." Sam grinned at Daniel, who winked back.

"Who gets to ride it first?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud! You don't even like heights, Daniel!"

"No, but I like digging up artifacts. There's a mission on the boards for P7X-555 to spend a week investigating some ruins we suspect were left behind by the Ancients--"

"You want me to agree to spend a week watching you stare at rocks? Come on, Daniel!"

"No, actually," Daniel said, adjusting his glasses with a smirk, "I want you to let me go with the SG team that Hammond recommends, on temporary assignment, as I want to enjoy the trip. And I'll need help with the translations..."

"You ungrateful, manipulative--"

"I'd like a longer look at the mechanisms that make this device work," Carter injected, before Jack could build up steam.

"Wha--? I'm not gonna let you take it apart! What if you can't put it back together right?"

Teal'c approached silently behind the arguing team, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. "I, too, have a condition for my compliance, O'Neill."

Jack groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. "Et tu, Brute?"

"You speak in a Tau'ri dialect with which I am unfamiliar. You once promised, did you not, that you would show me the wonders of your world? I have read that there is documented, in the midwest of your continent, a mass of hand-made string that measures in size greater than any other mass of string in existence. I wish to see this marvel with my own eyes."

"The world's largest ball of string? Teal'c, you've seen the wonders of the universe through the Stargate, and you want to go to Kansas to see a big ball of string?"

"You did promise, O'Neill."

"Keeping alien technology as a recreational vehicle is a pretty big secret," added Sam.

"Come on, Jack. It'll only be for a week."

"Fine! Fine! I'll do it!" Jack turned back to the controls with a tight sigh. "Just when you think you can trust people..." he mumbled, then shouted over his shoulder, "First we got to get back to the SGC. I expect you all to help me get this thing past Hammond. And don't think I am going to forget this little conversation!" Jack clamped down his jaw to prevent his own grin from being seen. In an annoyed voice, he continued loudly, "Thank god we aren't on Planet Murphy anymore. At least now, I know that nothing else can go wrong--"

As he spoke these words, a line of crystals on the control panel lit up, blinking baleful red.

"D'OH!"

~~fin


End file.
